


The Fifth Humor

by evilmaniclaugh



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alcoholism, Background Anne/Aramis, Drying out, Friendship, Gen, Past Constance/d'Artagnan, Past Milady/Athos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 08:12:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3283238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilmaniclaugh/pseuds/evilmaniclaugh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers up to 2.4. Constance decides that Athos needs to dry out and, afterwards, a firm friendship develops between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fifth Humor

For all her worries, of which there were many, Constance allowed some of her prayers to flow in the direction of Athos. Watching him in court, his appearance ragged, his eyes bleary, she could see the decline happening in front of her and wondered often why his friends did nothing about it.

The answer was a simple one. They all carried their burdens and, being men, were distracted by them, unable to concentrate on more than one problem at a time.

Treville, normally their father figure, was out of favour with the king. Aramis was wrapped up in a dangerous affair with the queen. Porthos, for some reason, hadn't been himself since the death of General de Foix and d'Artagnan was trying to cover for everyone's failings, whilst gazing longingly at Constance wherever she went.

She understood. She felt it too and carried around the weight of her love for him at all times. Theirs was a beautiful dream, but it was over and they had to continue on with their lives, however difficult it might be.

Today, Athos was in a terrible state, swaying from side to side and noticeably drunk on duty. Glancing to her right, she could see that even Milady was concerned for his well being. That woman had no heart and no soul left to give, but what feeling remained in her belonged solely to Athos. Rochefort, on the other hand, was positively beaming with delight to see the man's sorry condition. Constance allowed herself a moment to enjoy hating him.

Business was finally wrapped up for the morning, and with Aramis and Anne stealing a few moments of time together whilst the king was distracted by Milady, Constance took the opportunity to speak to Athos.

"Athos, may I have a word," she said, catching him before he followed the others out of the palace, his gait less of a swagger and more of a drunken stumble.

"I'm not in the mood for chit chat," he said dismissively.

"Neither am I," she said with a glare. "Athos, we’ve known each other five years now and, as a friend, I need to say this."

Leaning wearily against the wall, he challenged her with a stare, but the clarity was long gone and the look was far from withering. "Go on. If you must."

"You’re always drunk," she said. "You’re drunk now. You’ll be drunk when you’re protecting the king and the queen at their luncheon party later."

"Astute of you, Madame," said Athos, holding his hat in front of him as if it were a shield. "I am indeed a drunk and have been for as long as you’ve known me."

"But now you’re nothing more than that," said Constance, folding her arms. "No longer a soldier or a man. No longer the Athos I care about."

The king passed them by, Milady on his arm, and as her eyes turned their way, the look on Athos' face was heartbreaking.

"She said I would always love her, whatever she might be." He stared into the distance, blinking away tears. "And she’s right. I can't go on like this."

"Absolutely" said Constance, using his weakness to her advantage. "You won't go on like this because I'm going to sort you out."

He frowned. "You will do no such thing, Mme Bonacieux."

But Constance was not going to be outmanoeuvred on this matter. "The queen is away for two nights and does not need me to attend her." Athos looked disapproving and Constance had a feeling that he knew about the _other_ royal affair, but this was neither the time nor the place to discuss such matters. "You told me, when we were helping Emilie, that you understood because you had been through a similar thing yourself."

"I have," admitted Athos. "Several times."

"But always on your own and with no one to help you afterwards." Constance smiled at him. "This time you'll have me."

"I cannot let you do this," said Athos. "Even if I wanted to be free of the drink, and I'm not sure that I do, then it would be too much for you. _I’ll_ be too much for you." He looked away in shame. "Drying out is a painful, violent and embarrassing process."

"Then I'll ask Porthos to help us," said Constance. He was kind and trustworthy, but most of all he was strong enough to overcome Athos if needs be. "If it's anything like it was with Emilie then he'll not be needed for long."

"It will be much worse," warned Athos. "I’ll be raving and ferocious. I'll soil myself. I’ll try to escape. I'll do anything for a drink. I'll beg and grovel. I’ll be much less of a man than I am now."

"But not in my eyes," said Constance. "Because you’ll be trying to help yourself become a better one."

Athos sighed deeply and bowed his head. "I'm not certain I can face it again."

"Can you face the way life's heading now?" asked Constance gently. "Do you want to fall into such a decline that you become a laughing stock at court and lose your commission? Milady will look at you first with disgust and then she will not even notice your presence. Is that the future you choose for yourself?"

"No," said Athos. "I can't imagine anything worse. Death would be a relief."

"Then come with me. We'll talk to Porthos and d'Artagnan and arrange matters. There will be ways of covering your absence."

\---

Her plan now a reality, Constance was more than a little frightened. The cell seemed darker than it had been before, more oppressive, and Athos was rapidly falling victim to his addiction, his body shaking, his eyes searching the walls relentlessly.

"Please don't make me do this," he begged. "Just one drink."

"You may have a little water," said Constance, pouring a splash into the flagon.

Athos knocked it out of her hand as she offered it to him.

"Not the way to treat a lady," said Porthos, pushing him gently back down onto the bed and they watched as he fell into a restless doze.

"How long has it been, I wonder," said Constance.

"Near to a full day," said Porthos. "He's doing well."

"I meant since he tried to stop drinking."

"Couple of years," said Porthos. "Last time, he took himself off somewhere without telling a soul and laid low for a while. Treville was fuming, but then he came back with a determination never to touch a drop again and all was forgiven. The captain has a soft spot for him."

"He has a soft spot for all four of you," said Constance as she bathed the sweat away from Athos' forehead.

Porthos' brow furrowed. "He's keeping something from me," he said. "I've asked, but he won't let on."

"He cares about you," said Constance with a reassuring glance. "He'd never do anything to hurt you."

After another hour of sleep, Athos woke in a violent rage, hallucinating and fighting his way free of Porthos' arms. 

"Go get some rest, Constance," said Porthos, helping Athos recover after he'd been sick."When you return tomorrow bring some clean clothes and linens for the bed. Also some fresh water for washing."

"I should stay," said Constance doubtfully. "We can't either of us tend to-"

"Fuck you to hell," snarled Athos, elbowing Porthos hard. 

The big man let out a huff of breath, but never relinquished his hold. "Now that was uncalled for," he said with a grin. "It's rude to interrupt a lady when she’s speaking."

Constance managed to laugh, although she was feeling desperately unhappy. Athos was right. She wasn't up to this.

"You go home and get some sleep," insisted Porthos. "He'll be through the worst of it by morning. Then he'll be the one suffering rather than us, and he'll need you to care for him."

"How long did it take him to go back on the drink last time?" she asked, as she collected her things and stood at the cell door.

"Not long," said Porthos. "A fortnight later I had to carry him home." He looked down at Athos who stared sightlessly back at him. "It's inside him: another of them humors eating him away."

"He can be free of it," said Constance.

"As soon as he's free of her," muttered Porthos.

Constance left the two men alone and made her way back to her home. With the queen and Aramis holed up in one of the country residences, it would be incriminating for her to stay at the palace, and she prayed that Bonacieux would be away on one of his many business trips. Her wishes were granted; the house was empty, and so she set to, lighting a fire and tidying the kitchen. Whoever was currently employed as maid was doing a poor job of the domestic work.

The knock at the door surprised her and she was even more flustered to see d'Artagnan on the step. "What are you doing here?"

"Bonacieux is out of town," he said. "I checked. I've come to see how Athos is."

"He's in the cell where we held Emilie," said Constance. "Go see for yourself."

D'Artagnan stepped forward to embrace her, and being held in his arms was nothing short of perfect. She wanted him. Her body ached for him, but she'd been foolish before and was not about to give in this time.

Freeing herself, she pushed him away. "Athos is not well, but Porthos is with him. If you'll excuse me, I need to get some rest so I can help again in the morning."

"Constance, I love you. Can we at least be together tonight?"

His wheedling tone made her angry rather than aroused. "Go," she said. "You shouldn't be here at all. Not with half of Paris knowing about us."

"It didn't bother you before," said d'Artagnan and that remark was a slap in the face.

"I was stupid and, more to the point, I was wrong." She was fired up now. "You got me a position as maid of honour at the palace because you thought it meant there'd be more occasion to fuck me."

"Constance!" said d'Artagnan.

"Did I shock you, or was it the truth that stung?" Constance folded her arms defiantly, but then she conceded a little. "I love you, d'Artagnan, but I'm a married woman."

She'd seen the carry on with the king and Milady and the queen and Aramis. She'd seen the hurt on Athos' face and hated the situation. It may be normal behaviour for some, but she had more pride in herself.

"I suppose it was both," admitted d'Artagnan. "But I love you and I'll respect your wishes."

"We'll be good friends," said Constance. "The way we should have remained all along."

After seeing him out, Constance sat by the fire eating a light supper and enjoying the solitude. Life at the palace was noisy and hectic and this was a much needed break. Once her meal was finished, she went to bed and fell asleep more easily than expected.

\---

Collecting clothes from the store and sheets from the laundry, Constance avoided the filth in the streets and bought a basket of food from the market. The water, she'd brought from home, would likely make Athos as sick as a dog, but he had to drink and there was no other option.

The dungeons were colder than ever and she shivered, pausing at the cell door and wondering what she would find inside.

All was quiet. Porthos was sitting on the bed with Athos wrapped in a sheet leaning against him.

"How was it?" she asked, putting the basket of food down on the table.

"Pretty dreadful," said Porthos. "Give me the clothes and leave us to it for a bit. I'll sort him out and then go get some kip."

"I can get him dressed."

"I'm sure he'd prefer I do it," said Porthos bluntly.

From the passageway she listened to the outpourings of misery from Athos as Porthos cleaned him and cajoled him into getting partially dressed.

"Right, he's decent," said Porthos, opening the door. He had a bundle of washing under his arm. "I'll leave his uniform in case he makes a miraculous recovery. The rest I'll take to the laundry." He lowered his voice. “He's very low, but he's over the hump."

"Thank you," said Constance. This had been her idea, but she could never have done it without Porthos.

"I'll try harder to keep him off it," said Porthos. "We all will."

He yawned, his mouth a gaping chasm, and Constance nudged him with an elbow. "Go," she said. "Get to your bed. We'll be fine."

Athos lay on the narrow cot, staring up at the barrelled ceiling. “Are you happy to find me this way?”

“Honestly yes,” said Constance. “Not that I want you to be miserable, but it’s the first time any of us have seen you sober in months. You’re a kind man, Athos. You’re gentle, though you try hard to conceal it. Neither of those qualities have been present recently.”

“I don’t care,” said Athos.

“No, you don’t,” agreed Constance. “Not now, but once the cravings are gone you'll know how glad everyone is to have you back.”

“I doubt you even know me,” said Athos, sitting up and pulling the blanket around his shoulders.

“If I like the drunkard as much as I do, then I’m sure I'll find the real man twice as lovely.”

For a moment Athos almost smiled and she knew then that this was worth it. Between the four of them, they would make him better.

“How is Aramis?” she asked carelessly as she passed him a mug of water and a plate of fruit. “I haven’t seen much of him recently.”

“I thought you'd see more of him than most.” Athos stared at her.

It was quite apparent that they both knew of the situation, and Constance decided that there was no need for games. “He and the queen are carrying on in public. It's dangerous.”

Athos sighed. “I advised him to keep his distance, for all our sakes, and I hoped he was doing so.”

Constance shook her head. “When we went to Emilie’s camp I caught them kissing. Anyone could have walked in and seen them.”

“I found them in bed together months ago,” said Athos. He looked up at Constance. “I shouldn't tell you this, but I know I can trust you.”

“You can,” said Constance.

“He’s convinced that the baby is his,” said Athos. “He’s risking everyone’s safety and I don't know what to do for the best. It's been weighing me down.”

“Don’t let it,” said Constance. “It’s not your problem. Your health is more important than any of the goings on at the palace.”

“Thank you,” said Athos. “I don't deserve your kindness.”

“You do,” said Constance. “More than most. We’ll share our burdens and halve our worries.”

“And be sorrowful together.” Athos’ lips turned up into a half smile.

“That too,” laughed Constance. “Though neither maudlin nor drunk is allowed. Shall I read to you to pass the time?”

“That would be nice,” said Athos, lying down and pulling the covers around him.

\---

With the queen now back in residence at the palace, Constance had little time in which to sit with Athos and help him through the wine sickness. He was still suffering from tremors, though much less so, and was able to hold down food and water.

“I will be fine,” he said to reassure her.

“I’ll make sure he is,” said Porthos, turning his frown onto Athos. “You’ll not be rid of me for a while. I’ll be your shadow.”

Once the horrors were over, Constance had enjoyed her quiet times with Athos. Reading and talking were simple pleasures, but her role as maid of honour allowed her little time for such things. She enjoyed her new status, but there were moments she’d happily give it all up and go back to needlework.

“I’m sure you'll be well taken care of,” she said, laughing at the disgruntled expression on Athos’ face.

Aramis poked his head around the cell door. “D’Artagnan just told me what’s been happening. Are you well, Athos? If you’d waited I could have helped you through this."

“We used what time was available to us,” Constance said, with a pointed look at Aramis.

“I could have at least provided you with laudanum to ease the pain.”

“Opium mixed with spirit,” said Porthos. “Not your best idea, my friend.”

“I’m not thinking,” said Aramis, shaking his head ruefully.

“Perhaps you’re suffering from too many distractions,” said Constance. “I must go.” She turned to Athos. “Will you stay here another night?”

Athos grimaced. “I need to breathe.”

“He’ll come home with me,” said Porthos, not giving Athos any choice in the matter. “I’ll keep him out of harm’s way.”

\---

Athos had been absent from duties at the palace for more than two weeks. Constance had been able to find no time to visit him at Porthos’ rooms, and hadn’t even had spoken of him to anyone, so it was a relief to see him in the guard.

She felt for him as she watched him accompany the king and a small group of courtiers, Milady included, for a walk through the gardens. She knew, from their conversations, that there was nothing harder for him to bear than this, and leaving the queen to be attended by her other ladies in waiting, Constance discreetly followed the king’s party. It was a shock to discover Athos in the arms of Milady, the pair of them hidden behind a box hedge whilst the king was busy with talk of hunting.

“Madame Bonacieux, should you not be fawning over the queen?” said the woman, turning and smiling at Constance. 

They were disturbed by a raucous summons from the king. 

“I will see you again soon,” said Milady, laying her palm on Athos’ cheek then walking away.

It was a tender gesture, and Constance wondered how two people, so much in love with each other, could inflict such damage. “She will only hurt you,” she said. 

“I know, but I'm weak,” admitted Athos. “The longer I spend with her, the more I would do anything to have her back She’s as much a temptation to me as the wine. I can escape neither.”

“But you can resist,” said Constance. “And you must try.”

He looked at her. "I promise I'll do my best."

\---

They made time for each other. Strange as it might seem, Constance had never enjoyed such a close friendship, and though they were both busy people, being at the palace together kept them out of trouble and laughing through their sorrows.

Milady was put out. Constance could tell this when the supercilious looks aimed her way turned ferocious, but Athos, to her delight, seemed to take as much pleasure in this bond as she did.

D'Artagnan was also unhappy, though Constance discovered that unfounded jealousy was playing more of a part in his misery when he confronted her in one of the antechambers.

"Are you sleeping with him?"

"I beg your pardon?" she said, hands on hips as she turned to face him.

"Are you sleeping with Athos? You spend every spare moment of the day with him, so I can only assume you're bedding him at night."

"You're a child," said Constance. "No. I'm not sleeping with him. He and I are friends. We enjoy each other's company. Is that really so hard for you to understand?" She had one more thing to say. "He treats me with respect, and appreciates the difficulty of my situation."

The atmosphere when Athos approached them was cold, verging on icy.

"D'Artagnan," he said. "Rochefort wishes to speak to you about arrangements for a royal visit to Rheims."

Nodding curtly, d'Artagnan left the room and Athos sighed. "It seems I am out of favour with everyone," he said.

"They are allowing you time to recover, not side-lining you," laughed Constance.

Athos smirked. "It feels odd to be redundant. I suppose it's been this way for a while, the difference being that I never actually noticed when I was drunk."

"You said it." Constance smiled at him and took his arm. "Athos, can I ask you a favour?"

"Anything at all, my dear."

The genuine affection in his voice was a joy to her. "The queen is planning one of her escapes from the palace. She wishes to go and see a play that everyone has been giggling about. I can't talk her out of it and so I'd be grateful if you'd accompany us."

"Will that not irritate Her Majesty?"

"Not if you accompany us at a discreet distance," said Constance with a grin.

\---

The play in question was a ribald farce performed at one of the backstreet theatres by a travelling Italian company. Disguised as commoners, Anne and Constance sat in the balcony and Constance was relieved when she spotted Athos a few rows back.

It was a baptism of fire. All around him people were drunk, or well on their way to being so. The smell of wine oozed from the floorboards and Constance wished she'd asked Porthos to accompany them instead, but then she spotted the familiar shape of the big man approaching and knew that all would be well.

The play was obscene and yet, at the same time, hilarious, the strap on dildos and fake breasts alarming but funny. Half of the words meant nothing to Constance, and she was sure the queen must be as lost as she was, but it was an experience not to be missed.

Once the show was over, a troubling situation began to develop. A drunken fight broke out in the stalls and soon it spread like wildfire throughout the theatre.

"What shall we do?" asked the queen, looking around to see that all exits were blocked by brawling men.

"Your Majesty," said Athos in a low voice. "Come with me now." He sheltered her with his cloak and led the way down a hidden staircase and through a rough wooden doorway, emerging onto the street with Porthos and Constance following close behind.

Porthos went to fetch the carriage and once the queen was returned safely to her chambers in the palace, she looked gratefully at both men in turn. "Thank you for your assistance. I don't know what we would have done without you."

"It is our duty, Your Majesty." Athos nodded respectfully and then he glanced at Constance. "But we would be grateful if, in the future, you could choose your pursuits more wisely." He may have been smiling, but his eyes were laden with gravity. "At very least, carry them out in a less obvious manner."

With that, the two Musketeers took their leave and Constance began to unfasten the bindings of the queen's peasant dress, the material of too fine a quality to be credible as a disguise.

"I believe I have been told off by M Athos," said Anne, looking at Constance in the mirror.

"I believe you have, Your Majesty."

"It had little to do with theatre." Anne sighed.

"Athos is a wise man," said Constance. "And a good one. He would not speak lightly of such things."

"I know," said Anne, "and I shall mend my ways. Or at least show more discretion and consideration to others." She stared at Constance. "I cannot give Aramis up. I love him."

Constance thought about how much _she_ had given up this past year. It may not be her place to say it and she may lose her position as maid of honour, but her advice was needed.

"You can, Your Majesty. It just depends on whether or not you want to."

Anne lowered her gaze as Constance unbraided then brushed her hair, hoping that her words would have some effect. Heads might roll for this, and she had no desire to lose hers to the executioner's axe.

\---

It was another dull day in the palace, and when Athos joined her at the window Constance was comforted by his solid presence. 

"Good morning, Mme Bonacieux. I hope you are well." The smirk on his lips negated the formality of his greeting. Court life was stultifying in its manners.

"I am indeed, Athos." Constance smiled at him. "It's a fine day for hawking."

Athos shrugged. "I could do without it." His eyes were faraway, off on some distant battlefield. "Did the queen listen to my words?" he said in an undertone.

"She listened and understood." Constance shrugged. "Whether she takes notice is anyone's guess."

"We're here to serve and protect, and that is all any of us can do."

"At least you get to fight," said Constance. "I'd give my right arm to do that."

"Without it, you'd be useless as a soldier," said Athos, his dry humour back where it belonged. "But with it, I have no doubt you'd be formidable."

Maybe one day, thought Constance. She'd begun training as a marksman with d'Artagnan, but they'd become stupidly distracted. Perhaps it was time to resume her lessons. She eyed Athos with speculative interest. He'd make a great teacher, and it would keep him out of mischief.

"Athos, I have a favour to ask you," she said, a hopeful expression on her face.

"Another one?"

"This one you'll enjoy," she said. "I promise."


End file.
